So Close
by Nikkae
Summary: The sequel to Arnisi. Set in post-Horizon ME2. Shepard wants Kaidan back, but the Citadel doctor wants him for herself. Rated M for language and sexy tiemz. This fic is compatible with ME3 in-game convos/r'ship progression.
1. Doppelganger

_This is the sequel to Arnisi._

_After Horizon, Kaidan's life is turned upside down. Is he over Shepard? Not by a long shot. [Rated M for Shenko action.]_

* * *

Kaidan knew why the Alliance had valued Shepard. She had always been prepared to get the job done no matter what – a valuable military trait.

Now that trait had reached its logical, dark conclusion. She wanted to get the job done so badly that she had done a deal with the devil – sold her soul for a fast ship, lots of credits and a terrorist intel network.

Or so he had assumed on Horizon. Now he found it difficult to believe she would have joined Cerberus unless she felt she had no other choice. When he thought about the accusations he had thrown at her that day, his gut twisted.

He hadn't heard a word from her since Horizon, and it seemed increasingly unlikely that she would return to the Alliance. Unfortunately, that knowledge didn't stop the hopeless fantasies where Shepard showed up on his doorstep, flushed with the success of being an undercover agent.

"The Cerberus ship is so bugged they can't scratch their asses without us knowing about it," his fantasy Shepard would quip, sliding her arms around his neck. "You didn't really think I worked for them, did you?"

But she did work for them, and they couldn't be trusted. His only consolation was that Cerberus had invested too much in Shepard to kill her. He tried not to think about the possibility that they had brainwashed her during the rebuild.

These weren't constructive thoughts to be having on a date, and he tried to drag his attention back to the doctor. He still didn't know how he had ended up on a second date with her; it wasn't as though the first had been a success. His friends had neglected to warn him that the doctor was a dead ringer for Shepard. It had been a shock to lay eyes on the Commander's doppelganger, and not a pleasant one. He had ended the night early, blaming a work emergency, and decided he wouldn't see her again.

However, his well-meaning friends had pleaded for him to give her another chance, and he had finally agreed to a second date on the condition that they came along and made it a group outing. "Absolutely!" they had told him, but tonight they were nowhere to be seen. Hmm.

The doctor's constant chatter had caused him to zone out, but he snapped back to attention when she mentioned Shepard.

"I'm sorry Shawna, I'm not sure I heard you right," he said. "Did you say you're _related_ to her?"

"Yes, I'm her cousin. We look so alike, don't we? Of course, I _have_ copied her look a bit. It suits me."

Shepard had never mentioned her; they obviously hadn't been close. "I thought Lauren and Tom were going to come as well," he said, starting on another drink. He had a pretty good idea where they were – at home chortling together about their success at playing Cupid.

"Tom and Lauren couldn't come, but that's cool," Shawna said, airily. "I don't think Lauren likes me much anyway. Insecure women resent women who are beautiful. It's not my fault I'm pretty, is it?"

"Of course not," he said, trying to sound sympathetic but wishing he were miles away. Shepard had never attracted feminine resentment, perhaps because she didn't flaunt her looks. She had a beautiful face, but she either didn't realise it or didn't value it. Not surprising, perhaps. In all her fierce life, when would looks ever have mattered?

He had to stop thinking about Shepard. He needed to get home and sleep. He wondered how soon he could leave without hurting Shawna's feelings.

"I can't stay out late," he said apologetically. "I have to work early tomorrow."

"You can't leave without trying the cocktail I invented," Shawna protested. "I've already ordered two, the waiter is coming."

What could he do but stay and drink one? It was actually pretty good – sweet and very strong, suffusing him with a fuzzy warmth. He accepted another without complaint, and then found himself drinking a third. With luck, he reasoned blearily, the alcohol would finally allow him to beat the nightmares and get a decent night's sleep. That would do him good, surely? What was the harm in finding solace at the bottom of a glass?

Judging by Shawna's sly expression, she wanted to give him solace of another kind. Her grey eyes held the promise of wicked secrets. If only it had been Shepard sitting there looking at him in that way, he would have taken her hand and been halfway to the rapid transit by now. But this woman wasn't Shepard, and he felt no desire to take her anywhere.

_Hang on a minute,_ a voice inside him said. _One more drink might allow you to _imagine_ she's Shepard_.

It was certainly possible. The outlines of her face were starting to blur a little already.

He screwed his eyes shut. How could he even consider such a thing? It wasn't healthy, nor was it fair to the doctor. By now she had moved closer to him on the seat, and had put her hand on his arm.

"I heard you're an L2," she cooed. "and I know the kind of neural power that must give you. It's so cool."

He thought about the countless hours spent hugging a toilet bowl, throwing up from the throbbing pain that threatened to split his skull. He thought about the dizziness and disorientation of hypoglycaemia, and the ravenous hunger that tore at his guts after battle. 'Cool' wasn't the word he'd use.

"I need to go home before I fall asleep," he said. "I'm not used to drinking."

"I'll take you," she said. "We don't want you passing out at your front door, do we?"

He gave her what he hoped was a polite smile and let her take him back to his military digs. Getting promoted to Lieutenant Commander had earned him a nice apartment, although it was a bit over the top for his tastes. He didn't need a massive en suite nor a king-size bed, but he didn't much care about the excessive decor at this point. He just wanted to get horizontal.

"Nice place," she said, impressed. "That bed is absurdly enormous though. Three krogan could fit on there."

"So could I. I'm very tired."

He took off his shoes, lay down and put a hand over his eyes. The alcohol was making his head swim. He rarely drank to excess. In fact, the last time he had been drunk was over two years ago on Noveria. Shepard had helped him up to his hotel room, and he had come onto her pretty strong along the way. He smiled at the dream-like memory of the kiss they had shared. She had later told him the only reason she hadn't spent the night with him was because she didn't want to take advantage of his drunken state.

Evidently the doctor didn't have the same qualms; she simply removed her shoes and got into bed with him.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea," he protested, gently. "I'm not looking for anything..."

"It's OK," she soothed. "We can just sleep if you want."

Even in his drunken state, it seemed strange for someone to want to stay at a date's house simply to sleep in their bed.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be at home in your own bed?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Because you're hot. And because you won't be so tired in the morning."

He couldn't think clearly enough to argue, and he couldn't exactly throw her out, so he just lay back and let her be. It was easy to pretend he was back at Shepard's apartment on Shanxi, enjoying the most perfect shore leave a man could wish for.

He was one sick individual to torture himself like this. He shut his eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

"Kaidan, the Council has told me they still don't believe reapers exist. They think I'm a lunatic who dreamed it all."

The door slid shut behind them and she locked it. He wondered why.

"They'll see the truth eventually," he told her. "You'll see."

She activated the flashlight in her omni-tool and shone it around the ceiling of the sim room, almost as though she were checking for surveillance cameras. Water dripped from her freshly-washed hair, and she smelt faintly of shampoo. He tried not to think about Shepard in the shower, with warm water glistening on her body.

"What's even more unforgivable is that they cut our shore leave short to make us chase geth," she growled.

He banished his X-rated thoughts. "And this is why you want me to brush up on my shooting?"

She switched off her omni-tool, leaving them in darkness save for the flickering of the holo screen.

"Take a seat," she said, indicating the padded bench at the back of the room. "I have this room reserved for an hour, and I've worked out a foolproof plan. In the unlikely event that we're caught fraternising, just say I was harassing you. As a Spectre, I'll just get a slap on the wrist and you'll be off the hook."

She'd clearly been studying the regs. "I don't like the idea of lying about our relationship," he said slowly, "but you're probably right..." He gazed at her, turning the possibilities over in his mind. He couldn't help but notice that her shirt had become damp from her wet hair, revealing the enticing shape of her breasts through the thin fabric. Water droplets glistened on her neck. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her until his world went dark. Then he would slide his hands beneath her shirt and—

"How about it?" she asked.

Kaidan dragged his eyes from her chest back to her face. "It's possible you might get more than a slap on the wrist. There's no precedent for a human spectre sex scandal."

"There's no surveillance in here. And you meeting me in the sim room doesn't look as suspicious as you visiting my office. It'll be fiiiine..."

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. The white bra underneath was damp and damn near transparent. His mouth went dry. She kicked off her long, navy pants – the ones that cupped her ass so enticingly. The ass that was now exactly at eye level as she turned and undid her bra clasp.

"We don't have to do this," he said thickly. "We should stop and... just talk."

"We can talk later." The bra came off and she tossed it on the floor.

The protests died in his mouth as he gazed at her. His hands started to reach for the smooth curves of her breasts but he stopped himself just in time.

No. Fraternisation regs. Must keep control.

"Have I convinced you yet?" Shepard asked. She moved to stand directly in front of him, mere inches away. He could sense the heat that radiated from her, see the soft, pink flush of desire on her skin. Rational thought was becoming increasingly difficult.

"This isn't a good idea..." he bit out, his voice rough as his mind battled to regain control over his body.

She straddled his lap before he could blink, and began moving in a slow circle against him. He put his hands on her waist with the intent to push her off, or hold her still, or something. Instead he reflexively pulled her in tighter and pushed upward. She gasped.

"You really need to take off your clothes, Kaidan." She took his hands and pulled them up to cup her breasts. He should have pulled away, but his brain had given up trying to control his body and had stalked off in a huff.

He put his hand behind her neck, pulled her close and kissed her. Her tongue stroked over his, her fingers threading in his hair. His world spun.

Too soon she broke the kiss and looked at him from under the strands of her tangled fringe, her eyes sparkling. The light of the holo screen flickered and danced over her naked body.

"Do you still want to stop?" she asked.

"_No._ God no."

In the haze that followed he wasn't sure how his clothes came off, but in moments he and Shepard were skin-to-skin and she was flowing over him, all passion and fire and _his_.

*************  
He woke later, saw her lying beside him and moved closer. Dimly he realised the holo had switched itself off, which was strange. Also strange was the way Shepard's body looked softer and fleshier than usual. Was that a dress she was wearing? And why did the sim room bench feel like a bed?

Reality hit him, a ragged pain that shattered his senses. He couldn't share that bed with the doctor a moment longer.

He carefully eased himself off the mattress and got dressed, silently debating whether to wake Shawna before he left. In the end he left a note on a datapad on the bedside table, thanking her and saying he'd had a great time, and that they should catch up again. Just once more date, he decided, so he could tell her in person that it wasn't working out. She deserved better than to have him end it via datapad.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome. :)


	2. Dressed for success

Shepard knew when she was being head hunted. There was no way she would have been invited to an Alliance retirement party unless the brass had wanted to persuade her to work for them again.

"This party will be lame," Jack complained. "I'm all for the free booze, but I don't get why they've invited you. And I _really_ don't get why they invited me."

"They want to lure me back," Shepard explained. "They're going to play on my sense of patriotism. Clearly they want you, too, probably as a contracted undercover agent. You'd be the perfect person to infiltrate smuggling operations."

"Screw the Alliance," Jack scoffed. "Bunch of pussies. You're not going back to them are you?"

"Unless they can provide me with the same resources provided by Cerberus, I'll have to respectfully decline."

"I'd rather _rudely_ decline. Preferably with hand gestures." Jack flipped the birdie to clear up any confusion, just in case Shepard had assumed she'd been referring to sign language or jazz hands.

Shepard shrugged. "You can be rude to them if you want, but that might stem the flow of free booze."

"Shit." Jack scowled and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

"In the meantime," Shepard said, "I need to find a clothes store. I have nothing to wear to this function."

She told herself that her desire to attend the function had nothing to do with the fact that Kaidan might be there. She told herself she definitely was _not _going to corner him and try to convince him she was the same person he had loved two years ago. It would be pointless; he had seen too many Cerberus atrocities. She reminded herself of all the reasons it was better to be single in her line of work. _Stay rational_, she told herself. _It will help_.

It didn't. Her throat felt tight, and her heart still felt as though he had ripped it in half.

"There's no way I'm going clothes shopping with you unless I can get drunk first," Jack declared. "I'm thinking the Darkstar Lounge. It's just up the stairs."

"I'll come with you. I could use a drink or three." Shepard followed Jack to the bar and ordered a beer for each of them. She tried to socialize with Jack as often as was practical, to try to draw the former pirate out of her destructive mental spiral. Jack wasn't used to being treated with kindness, and responded by seesawing between hostile suspicion and wary friendliness. It was a bumpy road.

Shepard was just about to take a sip of her beer when she overheard a feminine voice mention Kaidan's name.

"Sure I'm related to Commander Shepard," said the voice. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it? I look just like her. I'm a shoe-in to land Alenko."

Shepard looked behind her and saw a vid conversation on a guy's omni-tool. The pretty caller on the screen did look vaguely like herself, albeit a lot more glamorous.

Shepard leaned over the guy's shoulder, causing him to jump nervously, and she narrowed her eyes at the woman on the holo. "I wasn't aware I had a living relative," she drawled.

The glamorous caller looked decidedly shocked, as well she might. "Oh, well... a distant one, maybe," she faltered. "Let me introduce myself, I'm Shawna, I'm a doctor on the Citadel."

"Never heard of you. We're not related."

"Anything's possible. We look the same."

Shepard frowned. There was a superficial resemblance, aided by the fact that this woman had adopted Shepard's hairstyle. It was even the same colour, except that this woman had black roots showing through. This woman was trying to copy her.

"Why the hell would you want to look like me?" Shepard demanded. She had always longed to find some family, even if it was just a cousin, but she knew there was nobody. This shallow copycat was digging up old wounds with her perfectly manicured nails.

The woman looked shifty. "I copied your look so I could get the attention of that poor Lieutenant Commander you deserted – and it worked."

"What?" Shepard spluttered. She felt sick. "I didn't… you can't… that's _pathetic_." She spun around and bumped into Jack, whose hobbies apparently included eavesdropping on people. Shepard would have to work on that as well.

"I don't know what Lieutenant Commander she's talking about," Jack said, "but she sounds like a snotty bitch. I should totally go to her place and shoot her. You want me to?"

"Thanks for the offer," Shepard said between gritted teeth, "but you'd better not."

She practically ran to the docking area, her shopping trip forgotten. With every step she told herself it was pointless to get upset about another woman angling for Kaidan. It wasn't possible to return to the Alliance – not in the immediate future, anyway – which meant Kaidan was eventually going to get snapped up by another girl. The thought that the other girl would probably be Shawna made Shepard want to punch something. Ideally she'd like to punch Shawna, but that wasn't likely so she would have to punch something else.

"Commander Shepard?" said an irritatingly familiar voice. "Khalisa Al-Jilani, Westerlund News."

A bit of luck at last.

* * *

Shepard had a quick flick through her wardrobe. It was depressingly sparse. All she had was a dress uniform that Dr Chakwas had salvaged for her, and several sets of cotton civvies.

She called an informal meeting with Kelly and Miranda to see whether she could borrow something of theirs. As an afterthought she invited Jack as well. Miranda and Jack needed to learn how to spend time together in the same room without ripping each other apart.

Miranda was late, but Kelly said not to wait because she_ totally_ had the clothing issue covered. Shepard assumed the yeoman was speaking figuratively, as Kelly's outfits didn't cover much.

"My outfits are all here on my omni-tool," Kelly gushed. "Scroll through them. What do you think?"

Shepard had a quick browse and cringed inwardly. "Thanks, but I'd rather not show off quite that much skin. And come to think of it, I'd rather my outfit had a built-in armour weave, just in case."

Jack pointed to her vest. "You can borrow this," she offered. "I got it off a dead mercenary. I think it's totally badass. I've been keeping an eye out for another vest like it but it's freakin' hard to find decent black clothes."

At that point Miranda shimmied in, wearing a new, black, leather-look catsuit.

"Nice," Shepard said.

"Thanks."

Jack was jealous.

"Where did you loot it?" she demanded. "Was it from an Eclipse sister?"

Miranda was horrified. "Good God, I didn't_ loot_ it," she said. "I had it custom made for me by Jacques at Kassa Fabrications." Kelly covered her mouth and made muffled sounds of mirth.

"Are all your outfits custom made for you?" Shepard asked.

"Sure they are," Jack sneered. "Just _ass_ her."

Miranda glared at Jack. "Yes, they're all custom made."

Shepard doubted Miranda's custom outfits would sit well on her own modest curves. Unless Dr Chakwas could perform an emergency ass transplant in the next 10 minutes, Shepard was all out of options.

She dismissed the girls, resignedly put on her dress uniform and looked in the mirror. With her no-nonsense haircut, mannish uniform and athletic body, she looked about as feminine as the pistol strapped under her jacket. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. And anyway, she reasoned, being feminine never saved anyone from being killed, whereas having a pistol certainly did.

* * *

Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying the story so far! There'll be more Shenko action in the next chapter, I promise. :)


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